


unaware that you're tearing me asunder

by Mici (noharlembeat)



Category: Young Avengers
Genre: AU, Dark, Dom/sub, House of M - Freeform, M/M, Royalty, dub-con, no bee nazis either, no shenanigans in this one I'm sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-24
Updated: 2012-07-24
Packaged: 2017-11-10 14:46:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/467480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noharlembeat/pseuds/Mici
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happens at the death of a king.</p>
            </blockquote>





	unaware that you're tearing me asunder

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [and get him to swap our places](https://archiveofourown.org/works/402237) by [Mici (noharlembeat)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/noharlembeat/pseuds/Mici). 



William Magnus Lensherr, son of the Esteemed and Glorious House of M, opens his eyes, stares at the boy who is sleeping in the bed next to him, and stares up at the canopy of his bed, thinking, _the King is dead, long live the king_.

The truth of it is simple: King Erik Magnus Lensherr, First of his Name, died in the night, somewhere between orgasm one and orgasm two with the unnamed boy who is _still sleeping_ , as if that’s acceptable when the king is _dead_ , and now William has to answer to his Uncle Pietro as to why he didn’t answer his phone, why his bodyguards were turning away messages at the door, why his older twin (twin, twins, twinned, they run in the family) had to come back and tell him that William was _preoccupied_. Why he didn’t come right away when he felt his Grandfather pass in the night like a whisper, when he is the only one in the family who has that power.

He doesn’t think about that as he gets up. Instead he rubs his face and sets his feet on the marble floor, the cold jarring up his legs. He considers turning marble to carpet, but there is no carpet elegant enough for the summer home of Princess Wanda, even though she hasn’t left her apartments in Genosha for the past ten years. 

The truth is that with the exception of Thomas’ visits, he’s the only one that comes here. But that doesn’t change that this is his mother’s home, and no carpets means no carpets, even for a brief moment. _Family_ , his grandfather used to tell him, _is the only thing worth obeying_. The words stick in his head like a prayer, because right now William is denying his family.

The nameless boy gets up, and his hands go to William’s waist, settling over his hips. They feel warmer than they did last night, but then William knows his own body temperature ratchets when he uses magic, and he was using magic to impress, to seduce, to conquer, even if he didn’t need it. “Don’t,” he warns quietly, and the nameless boy lets go and looks at him. “I don’t want to be touched,” he adds, even though he doesn’t have to, and turns his head to look at the young man next to him, the young man with golden hair and eyes the color of the sky, two shades lighter than the color of his magic. The kind of boy that William likes, bigger than him but submissive, worshipful, powerless, and usually human.

Mutants put on airs. Humans are happy to be noticed, and they don’t fight when William loses control. But that happens less and less, since one died. No one talks about it, not even Thomas, who talks about everything. 

William might be the youngest son of the House, but he’s also the most powerful.

He stands and goes to the window and looks out at the gray water – gray because it matches the sky, which matches William’s mood, which of course, matches the mood of the entire planet today, or it should. The King of Genosha is dead, and William knows, intellectually, that people will celebrate. Some people will think that this will make a difference, that Pietro will be a kinder, wiser King. That the House of M will crumble into the sea beneath Genosha. Some people will think that he was assassinated by terrorists or concoct a theory about Captain America come again to save the world. 

But most people will mourn. He knows his mother will mourn the most, that she will turn in on herself more than she already has, that she will lock the door to her apartments and wail. William wonders if he cares.

The nameless human boy comes onto the balcony with a robe and William realizes he’s trying to be helpful, because William is naked. William turns and his lip quirks up, and the boy (man? Teenager.) almost smiles at him for an instant, because he doesn’t see the cruelty that William feels. “Do you think I need to be covered?”

“I think the paparazzi might be taking pictures.” The reply is almost instant, unafraid.

William takes the boy’s wrists in his hands, even though the boy is taller, and holds on until they drop the robe. “No one’s here except bodyguards,” he says, “And none of them are stupid enough to look.” That’s not exactly true, but it doesn’t really matter. “I could fuck you over the balcony, if I wanted to, and the only ones who would know would be the dolphins.”

William’s inclined to do just that, to forget that he has a funeral to go to, an Uncle to appease, a mother to comfort, and aunt to calm and a brother to…well, he and Thomas, they’re almost like the same person, really, so there’s no duty there except to not impersonate the other.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He gets to Genosha a few hours later, clean and fed but not exactly comfortable: Rictor, his mother’s bodyguard, arrived by teleporter to make sure he came quickly before he could have the nameless boy (who remains nameless, and also very stranded) a third time. They send Rictor because even though he’s a monumental kiss-ass, he’s also one of the few people who can still call William _Billy_ and get away with it. There’s a lot to be said for the man who explained to him what those feelings for men were called.

The Palace is so busy it almost looks more like a wedding than a funeral. The last wedding that took place here was his Aunt Lorna’s wedding to Alex Summers, a no-name mutant without any land, titles, claims to fame or impressive powers beyond being unbearably laden with existential angst _all the time_. Grandfather wanted to roast Alex Summers on a spit. William was seven, at the time, and he didn’t understand why everyone was so upset, except that he hated the scratchy clothes and he hated that they had to invite the ruler of Latveria who was a bigger kiss-ass than Rictor, and he kept edging up against his Mother.

But this is an event beyond that. There are people flying all over the place, messages going from place to place, people screaming about the color of flowers and appropriate invitations and _why isn’t there more time to prepare_? Julian Keller, who William had a crush on when he first arrived in the Palace but hasn’t fucked, greets him with a bow of precision etiquette and a smile that seems obscenely inappropriate. “Your uncle is waiting for you to read the will, your highness.”

William hates that. Not that they’re waiting, that’s expected, he’s supposed to inherit some title, and no one knows the line of succession that Grandfather favored, but that he’s called _your highness_. It’s not that William hates titles. It’s that William hates that title. The first person he ever slept with (his name is there, hidden, on the tip of his tongue, because he can never ever ever forget it, but he’ll never say it) used it at the wrong moment, broke his heart. He just wanted to be called William.

Never again. No names again, so now when they call him your highness, when they use it to reaffirm that this is happening, that the cock in their ass is _royal_ , he just remembers it’s another body beneath him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thomas is waiting, and so is his Uncle and his Aunt, but it’s no surprise that his mother isn’t there. 

The last time his mother left her rooms of her own volition was when there was an attack on the Palace, so many years ago, claiming that his human mother had created the world. William was too young, and he and Thomas don’t remember the attack, but he does know that some of the people who led it – Emma Frost and Scott Summers (brother of the infamous Alex), Wolverine and _Spider-man_ , they’re either dead or wishing they were. Since then his mother has kept to herself, refusing to leave her rooms even with her twin with her. Lorna’s wedding was the last time he remembers her doing it.

He wonders if she’ll leave now, for this funeral. He doesn’t dwell on it, though, taking a seat next to Thomas instead, and as is always the case, suddenly William feels like whatever emptiness he was trying to fill is smoothed away, never there. It’s disconcerting, but comfortable, and he knows that Thomas feels it too despite claiming that he _doesn’t have feelings_. Thomas looks at him for an instant, as if to reassure himself that it’s only William, and they listen as the will is read.

There’s nothing surprising: the only surprising thing is that Grandfather is dead. Every member of this family doesn’t know how it happened, how is it that Grandfather is gone, he was supposed to live forever, this was supposed to be forever. But no one is crying. Everyone knows better than to cry. In this family, only one person ever shows that kind of weakness, and she’s forgiven of it as much as she’s reviled for being human.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Have you seen Mother yet?” Thomas asks as they leave, ignoring the guards and the aides who are trying desperately to tell the twins what the official Palace schedule of events are. 

William shakes his head. His twin’s face has an expression that matches his own: their coloring is so different, green and white versus black and light brown, but their faces are the same, and the expression is just one notch of distressed above neutral. “I was going there now,” he says, and ignores the muttering of the staff who know he doesn’t have time. But trying to dissuade the twins from seeing their mother is a pointless affair. This family, this destructive, arrogant family has one point of softness, and they hate her as much as they love her for it.

“Are you going to walk there?” Thomas asks, and William hears what he’s saying: _don’t teleport, I need you with me, I’m afraid, fractured, Grandfather’s dead._ He hears it because that’s what they do, these twins, bound together in ways that even their Uncle Pietro, who is a twin himself, doesn’t entirely find comfortable. It’s like their souls were manufactured from one pattern, the same atoms taking up two spaces. They were raised cruel and arrogant and soft with their mother, but they never fought or bickered. They slept in the same bed until the age where Thomas became interested in breasts and women and William became interested in men. They were always together.

William can’t remember a time where he lost control and Thomas was around. It’s as though Thomas is the lightning rod to his control, the part of him that can diffuse the bomb that William feels is ticking just beneath the skin. When they were separated to go to school (an experiment that Pietro and Lorna insisted on, while Wanda’s protests went unheard) their destructive behavior exploded in the most literal fashion: while William emotionally decimated softer, submissive men, Thomas blew up his school’s library in a fit of pique. It was something no one expected and certainly the PR was terrible for a few weeks, while Thomas was forced to apologize. 

They hate apologies.

William nods and they walk at a pace that must make Thomas crazy but he never shows it. Whenever the twins walk through the Palace together, there’s always a deferential tone the servants take, and always a sense of arrogance the twins take. It is something unique to the members of the House of Magnus, this arrogance, this knowledge that they own the world, Genosha, that they are responsible for mutant superiority. They are the most powerful mutants in the world. Even the Queen Ororo or the Braddocks cannot stand against them.

They walk in silence until they get to the heavily guarded doors that lead to their mother’s apartments, and even they have to pass the checkpoint: powers must be briefly displayed, questions must be correctly answered. Jamie Madrox, the head of his mother’s guard, isn’t stupid. Shapeshifters have tried coming in as her sons before, but no shapeshifter can manufacture the odd tendency the twins have to move identically when they’re together, to turn their heads as one. Jamie lets them through with a brief snort, because that’s the only appropriate reaction to the twins.

Their mother is there in red robes, sitting against a window, looking lost and sad and helpless. “William?” she says, and he goes there without hesitation, placing his head on her shoulder as she holds onto him, and she cries against him. Her father, he thinks. He was always kind to her, visiting her for hours each day, taking meals with her when he could. She was rarely alone; a parade of family was always in this room, but her father took a special place. William thinks that she would do anything for him. If she could have, she would have grown powers to please him, because it was her greatest joy (besides her children, of course) to see her father smile. She would have rebuilt the world in a shape to fit his heart, if she could, if he wanted anything she would have found a way to get it for him. 

And now he’s gone, and she’s here, tucking her head into her son’s hair. William doesn’t mourn for his Grandfather as much as he mourns for his mother, powerless and devoid of self-advocacy, mother of the most powerful mutant alive, now that his Grandfather is dead, but too scared of the world to even leave her apartments. He feels Thomas move up close, to take her other arm, and she pressed between them like they can protect her from anything. They’re layers, closing around the core of themselves. William can’t explain this phenomena; the first person to call them mamas boys suffered an extremely humiliating repercussion, but he knows that’s what they are. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

William is finally alone, after hours of ritual and interviews and press appearances, and even after sitting with Thomas and listening to him talk about New York, and it’s quiet in his room, and he hates it. 

There are lights; not the Palace lights, but dark blue swirling lights, magic lights. When he was a baby, he used to do this, and he and Thomas would laugh. He would make things with his mind: boats that would set sail into the air, puffing along on sparkling breaths of _nothing_. He remembers presenting that to his Grandfather, once, the sea of air only a hindrance as long as he thought of it as insubstantial. _I made it_ , he told him, beaming. _With my mind_.

But it wasn’t pride he saw that day, but fear. His Grandfather wasn’t a fearful man, but this, the boy who could change the world with a thought, who could make air solid enough to fly a boat through with just a thought, who could make his own toys out of wisps of nothing and wishes, that was something that caused him fear. William can’t say his Grandfather mistreated him (certainly, of all the family, Pietro was always the one who could never please) but his Grandfather kept wary of him, kept him close, as much as anyone can keep someone who can do what he pleases close. It was as though he knew something, something dangerous, something about William that haunted him.

But the fear, it struck a chord, resonated somewhere deep in William, because everyone was afraid of him, except Thomas, and his mother. Everyone deferred to him, gave him what he wanted. It was boring. There was no challenge. 

He doesn’t want deeply enough to change anything, and maybe that’s the way of it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The nameless boy is in the Palace. William has no idea how he got there, because his mother’s summer home is on a private island, and there isn’t exactly an airport. But considering he’s naked, in William’s room when he gets back from dinner, and asleep on William’s bed, he suspects it’s someone’s idea of a present. 

He just stares for a minute; the boy (teenager) has a good body, that’s why William picked him to begin with, but this is technically his Grandfather’s _home_ , and while he doesn’t care about the disrespect, he does care about his own personal image. Publically, he’s not like Thomas, who is rambunctious and parties. He’s the elegant twin, the one who people want to be seen around, and it suits his purposes to be that way, because people who think he’s the softer, less dangerous twin are less likely to run and tell the media when his wants escalate into something they’re not comfortable giving.

William always gets what he wants, after all.

The Palace is no place for any of his games, and this boy is a game (a mild game, a tame game, a game with little injury and mutual pleasure, maybe). “Wake up,” he says.

The boy’s eyes open and he looks confused. “I thought you went home,” he says, and suddenly there’s fear there, because he recognizes that he doesn’t recognize anything.

The fear is arousing. William doesn’t like that: he fights with this side of himself, the side that pits his wants against the fears of others, but it doesn’t matter. That side always wins, and he doesn’t know why, but he does know he’s crawling over the boy, whose fear is slowly turning to arousal too. He’s wearing full regalia, which is always a pain, but the boy, his hands are pushing away cloth. “Let me?” he asks quietly, and William tilts his head and shakes it. “No,” he says, “I want you on your knees, and I want you to struggle for it.”

There’s a pause and then a shift, movement, and moments later he’s still mostly dressed, the boy naked at his feet, and he’s thrusting up into his mouth, stretching his pink lips, which are reddening and swelling. It’s obscene, the sounds this boy (teenager) makes, and when William comes he feels just a little better.

“Little brother,” Thomas says from the door, and his eyes are green and dark. 

“What do you want,” William asks, lifting the teenager (boy) up to kiss him, there, uncaring that Thomas is there, uncaring that he’s being carefully tucked into his pants even as fear rides this nameless teenager (body?) like a wave. Clearly it’s more terrifying to have both twins in one place, and William likes it. “I didn’t think you’d want to share.”

“Would you share with me even if I did?” The question is drawling, languid, at least for Thomas, whose usual speed is much faster than this. It’s also pointless. They share everything, and if they shared a taste in who they slept with, they would share that too. And clearly, this nameless body knows that, because he tenses, the glorious muscles in his stomach fluttering, his erection still obscenely hard. William’s hand moves just above it, touching skin. “I didn’t think you’d bring anything in, little brother.”

“Someone left him for me.” William knows his eyes are glowing, that lightning is starting to form around his head, and the boy is still hard. “I’d keep him,” he begins.

“But you know what Uncle would say,” Thomas finishes. “Better get rid of him now.”

The fear in the room is almost clinging in the air. William wants to bottle it, because it’s a want, and he has so few of those. “Kill him?”

“No!” The boy finally speaks, and manages not to fall to his knees, but his erection, it’s still hard enough to hang a hat off. “I’m not worth the trouble!”

Both William and Thomas look at each other – usually at this point people are pissing themselves, and sure the begging is par for the course, but the erection, that’s unusual. William’s hand surrounds it and begins to jerk, and the teenager, boy, body, stays on his feet. “We could string you up, electrocute you, disassemble your molecules.”

The boy is gasping and Thomas is turning away, bored, but William, he wants, finally, he wants this boy, man, whatever, to come in his hand, to lick it off, and then he wants to do something, what, he doesn’t know, but he wants, and the boy comes and William offers his hand and there’s no hesitation.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Do you have to be obscene in front of me?” Thomas asks later, when they’re standing in state. There are probably telepaths who are monitoring this conversation, but it doesn’t matter. “You’re perverse.”

“You’re the one who interrupted,” William points out. “I never interrupt you when you’re face deep in vagina.” 

“That’s because I give back,” Thomas says succinctly. “You don’t want to be interrupted because you have no idea how to be generous.”

“I generously allowed him to live with the memory of sucking off a Prince, didn’t I?” William stands when he’s supposed to. 

Thomas scowls, and William’s face tugs to share it. “Grandfather wouldn’t have approved.”

Grandfather wouldn’t have approved – that’s true. Not because it’s a man but because it’s an abuse of privilege, and Grandfather was strict about those things. Although he suspects that the fact that it was a man would make Grandfather vaguely uncomfortable, but in an abstract way.

“Boys,” Princess Lorna says, warningly, and they get closer together and their voices drop considerably. 

“We’re supposed to be mourning.”

“I’m mourning the fact that I could be cock deep in-“

“ _William._ ” Lorna’s voice manages not to carry, but William feels her power push against him, and he takes the hint. He goes silent for a moment, and she seems to let her attention go elsewhere. 

Suddenly the door opens, and like hounds scenting a rabbit, both William and Thomas look up suddenly, in unison, faces staring up and blinking in confusion. A second later William notices his Uncle – the King, he supposes, move, slowly for him, and walk down the length of the hall to where Princess Wanda stands in the doorway, supported on both sides by Madrox, wearing a dress that probably weighs more than she does. Then Pietro is there, his arms around her, and she’s crying, calling for _Daddy_ , and it’s heart-wrenching.

They stand there in a tableau, quiet and sturdy and soft, and every mutant in the room is watching.

William goes to move, and Thomas is about to follow, when Lorna’s powers move around them. “No,” she says, and they turn, in unison. It’s moments like these that they’re one, more than any other. Their mother is crying, she’s in pain, she’s breaking down. “You can’t go there.” It’s a sign of weakness, they know, but it doesn’t matter.

They want.

That’s what matters.

Wanda’s wail gets higher and higher, and she’s crying _Daddy_ over and over, and something about how this is what everyone wanted, he wasn’t supposed to die, and Pietro is trying to calm her down, but it’s as though his twin has a strength to her that he can’t fight. She always did.

William doesn’t know how to fix this. He doesn’t know how to stop the pain because all he can do is inflict it, all he can do is damage things. He’s always gotten what he wants, and certainly, that’s always amounted to everyone else bending. He grabs Thomas’ hand, despite the fact that they never really touch, and they look at each other as Wanda wails her pain against her brother’s chest. Once upon a time, she was a princess who could handle this. Once upon a time, she could fix anything, but once her sons were hers, they protected her.

William can’t fix this. He doesn’t know how. He wants, and wants, and wants, the words almost forming on his lips; _IwantMothertostopcrying_ and he doesn’t know why.

William and Thomas grip each other’s hands, and Thomas looks at him, his eyes green and big. “I wish I Grandfather hadn’t died,” William says, and Thomas nods. “I wish Mother wasn’t crying,” he adds after a moment, and finally William whispers, “I wish things were back to normal.”

The world falls apart.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Billy Kaplan wakes up suddenly, breathing, panting for air, and turns. There’s a blonde next to him, stirring, because even though he’s a heavy sleeper he can’t possibly sleep through this panic. “Bill,” Teddy murmurs, looking up, concerned. “What the matter?”

“I don’t know,” Billy replies, and Teddy’s hands settle, heavy and hotter than usual on his waist. Billy knows that when he uses magic his body temperature ratchets up. “Was I sleep wishing?”

“I don’t see lobsters,” Teddy mutters, and drifts back to sleep, quiet. 

Billy gets up and walks across their room to his phone, and then out to his fire escape, and is about to call, but Tommy’s already there. They look at each other for a long time, before Tommy offers his hand. “Just this once,” he says, but Billy can tell something’s wrong. They hold hands for a very long time; the stars shine dark blue.


End file.
